A Touch of Red
By evolution-500
Genres: Horror/Friendship/Romance
Feedback: Always welcome
WARNING: This story contains violence, course language, mature themes and disturbing imagery. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft while RESIDENT EVIL is a property belonging to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.
Note: A huge thank you to Oknwehonwe Kasatstenhshera for his help. I recommend everyone checking out his work. Thanks a lot, man! :)
Chapter Six: Settling In
Claire wandered around the guest house, looking for her room. Glancing down one corridor, then another, the girl refrained herself from growling in frustration.
Where the hell was she?!
Upon entering the building, she and the others found themselves before a registration desk, where they all had to sign in and collect a key for their respective rooms.
Claire's was Room 404, somewhere on the fourth floor, but where exactly it was she had no idea. She hoped it was decent, but her biggest worry at the moment was finding the damn thing.
"Room 404...Room 404," she murmured to herself. It should be around here somewhere, so where...?
"You look lost." A feminine voice commented behind her, startling Claire as she whirled around to face the speaker.
It was the strange woman from earlier. Seeing her, Claire gave a slight smile. "Yeah, I can't seem to find my room anywhere."
"What is your room number?" the woman asked.
"404. Do you know where-" The woman cut her off as she pointed to a door that was three feet away from Claire's left. "Oh." Giving a sheepish smile, the girl gave an apologetic nod. "Sorry about that." She then absentmindedly tucked a bang behind her left ear as she regarded the mysterious woman. "I don't recall you mentioning your name."
"That is because I haven't," the latter said matter-of-factly.
"Could you tell me your name?"
The woman quirked a brow. "Why?"
Claire shrugged. "Well, to be friendly, that's all. Besides, I can just go around calling you 'you', you know?"
The woman said nothing, her face a cold controlled mask, completely unreadable.
"So, uh, do you live close by?"
The woman kept staring at her, and for a moment, Claire couldn't help feeling small, unnerved by the woman's intense eyes. To Claire, it was like being under the scrutiny of a wild animal, like a cat regarding her as if she were nothing more than a little mouse that she was playing with.
Then, a small yet equally unpleasant smile formed on the woman's porcelain mouth, revealing teeth, again reminding Claire of a predator, causing the girl to shiver.
The woman chuckled darkly, shaking her head in amusement.
"You are a funny one, little mouse," she said.
Claire blinked in surprise at the nickname, somewhat startled. 'Little mouse'? What-
Before she even had a chance to open her mouth to respond, the woman turned away from her and rounded a corner, disappearing from her view.
Claire remained rooted to the spot, staring to where the woman had gone. She waited a minute, then two. Once she became certain that the woman was gone, Claire felt her form untense.
"Weirdo." Looking back to her door, Claire then got out the key and inserted it into the slot, giving one final though suspicious glance over her shoulder as she entered her room.
Staring up at the ceiling in wonder, Claire lay on the bed, her mind a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. On one hand, part of the girl couldn't help feeling as if she were in a dream, and for several moments, she actually had considered the possibility that she were, just because of how crazy it all seemed!
What were the chances that little boring ol' Claire Redfield would be allowed to fight in her favorite TV show?!
From her being allowed to participate in the tournament to the wonderfully furnished (not to mention cozy) room that she was given, Claire had to pinch herself to make certain that what was happening around her was the real deal.
When she felt the stinging pain on her arm, the girl's mind then drifted back to her empty house, to her friends, to her brother and Jill.
Claire's eyes drooped guiltily.
Chris and Jill. She had been so preoccupied by her being here that those two had ended up being pushed back to the back of her mind.
"I wonder how they're doing..." she murmured softly to herself.
Lying there on the bed, Claire stared up to the ceiling as a feeling of melancholy came over her.
Even though this was a golden opportunity that could solve all of their problems, she felt so...alone.
Frightened.
Was she even really doing this for her brother and his girlfriend? Or...was this some long, sought-after and selfish desire of hers that she wanted fulfilled, and she's using what happened to them as an excuse to join?
Pangs of doubt and guilt stirred inside of Claire as she lay still on the bed.
Here she was, a nerdy, insecure nineteen year-old girl playing dress up and superhero.
Claire's brows knitted together as she stared contemplatively to the blank white ceiling, her mood dark.
Should she resign from the tournament? After all, the idea of her getting hurt, let alone her hurting someone...it frightened her. Claire didn't like the idea of hurting anyone. Granted, she could take care of herself when the situation called for it, but to beat up someone that she didn't even know or had any reason to beat up in the first place? Someone who, in all probability had more experience in the ring and probably even had a better reason to fight?
Sitting herself up, Claire looked around the room, then shook her head.
"I should get some air," she said aloud.
Perhaps some fresh air would help clear her thoughts. After all, it was a better way of passing the time rather than just lying here like a bump on a log.
Taking in a deep breath, Claire got up and searched her bag, then started to get changed.
Stepping out from the elevator, Claire approached the front desk, where a thin, well-dressed African American man with glasses stood behind the counter, writing something in a journal. Glancing up, the man smiled.
"Ah, hello, Ms. Redfield," he greeted.
Claire smiled back. "Hi, Mr. Rogers. How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you for asking," Rogers beamed. "How about yourself? Does the room meet up to your standards?"
"Oh it's wonderful! I have to admit that I was a bit lost, though."
He waved. "It happens sometimes, but don't worry. Once you get used to this place, you'll be able to know your way around. It's just a matter of adjusting." He then pushed up his glasses. "Signing out?"
"Yep." Claire replied.
Giving her a pen, he then pointed to the checkout list, indicating the time slot. "Just sign here please."
Taking it, Claire jotted her signature down beside the indicated space.
"So everyone has to sign out whenever they leave?" she commented.
Rogers nodded. "Yes, it is mandatory."
Claire looked around, then back at Rogers. "Don't you find it a little strange?"
He shrugged. "When I first came here I thought so, but then again I can't say that I blame the Baron. After all, one can never be too careful."
"Hm." Claire nodded thoughtfully in agreement. Finishing, she handed back his pen and smiled. "Thank you."
"No trouble at all. Take care, Ms. Redfield!" Rogers waved as she headed out the door.
Claire sat in the computer lab, staring at the screen, waiting. Finally, a window showing Rebecca and Leon's faces appeared.
"Hey guys!" Claire waved.
"Hey Claire!" Rebecca and Leon waved back. "How was the flight in?"
"Oh it was so cool! A bit bumpy, though." She shifted in her seat. "How are you two doing?"
"Good, good." Leon nodded. "So have you started yet?"
Claire shook her head. "No, we're going to be fighting tomorrow. Today is kind of an off day, so we're just kind of gathering our bearings. It's weird, this place is really anal when it comes to security. It almost feels like a prison here."
Rebecca blinked in surprise. "Really? That bad?"
She shrugged. "Kind of." Claire shifted in her seat. "So, um...how are Chris and Jill?"
Leon and Rebecca frowned, the two of them shaking their heads.
"Neither of them have woken up," the former said regretfully. "We'll let you know if there have been any changes, though."
"I really appreciate this, guys." Claire nodded, her features softening. "Thank you so much."
Rebecca gave a thumbs up as she smiled. "You can always count on us, Claire." She then looked seriously at her. "So what are you going to do now?"
Claire leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as she glanced up thoughtfully. "I might go have a look around, maybe do some training. How about you guys?"
Leon blushed. "Uh, Rebecca and I are going on a date."
Claire grinned. "Really? Real party animals, aren't you?"
Rebecca winked. "You know it."
"Planning on playing the game of 'hide the purple turnip'?"
Claire laughed as their jaws dropped onscreen.
"CLAIRE!" Rebecca shrieked in mortification.
She raised up her hands. "Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding! Enjoy your date, you two."
"Good luck at the tournament, Claire!" Rebecca waved. "We'll be watching and rooting for you!"
"Take care, Rebecca. Bye."
"Bye."
As the monitor shutdown, Claire's smile lowered.
"All done?" A guard nearby asked. Turning to face him, she nodded. "Alright, come with me to the front desk and sign yourself out."
As Claire scrawled her signature, she glanced up to the guard.
"Out of curiosity, do you know where I can find the Ultratech Museum?" she asked. "I couldn't help notice it on the map and I would LOVE to check it out!"
The helmeted guard politely nodded. "Just go left, then proceed four flights down and take a right outside. You won't miss it."
"Okay. Thank you!" Claire smiled cheerfully as she left.
'Am I really here on the Sabrewulf estate?' she wondered amazedly.
Wandering around the castle halls, Claire glanced around in fascination at the gloomy architecture, at the various paintings and fancy furniture before making her way out the door.
Stepping outside, she wandered along the cement walkways, studying the various medieval structures around her in wonder, curious to know how much of these buildings were exact duplicates of the Baron's estate back home in Germany. Every so often she would encounter a pair of guards on patrol or a roaming Theseus android, making the girl shake her head at the amount of security this place had. Looking around in confusion, Claire then took out her map.
So, the guard said down four flights of stairs and take a right outside, so where...?
Glancing around in confusion, Claire suddenly paused at the sight of the area blocked off by a wire fence, specifically at the large, imposing warehouse before her, taken by its unusual appearance.
A series of smoke stacks at the top emitted thick dark clouds that drifted up into the sky, while a collection of solar panels along with a series of eight by nine foot heavy-duty steel shipping containers that lined its sides.
Claire watched as some of the latter were hauled around by large yellow tractor-like loader android units as they carefully placed them down with their electrically-operated claws, stomping away on massive bipedal feet.
Looking away from the machines as they clomped out of view, the girl then turned her attention to the entrance's large gothic arch, studying the building itself.
A strange mishmash of shapes, with the various jutting cylinders sprouting out from the facility's sides, the warehouse looked more like some weird Eldritch abomination turned Industrial complex. The main structure, however, was cylindrical and had a huge, multipaneled window at the top of its looming, elongated structure, looking like a very large shark that threatened to bite down.
"Can I help you?"
Startled from her thoughts, Claire looked dumbly back to the guard. "Huh?"
"Are you lost?" The man asked.
Claire blinked. "Oh! Uh, sorry!" She then brought up her map. "I was trying to find the museum around here. Do you know where I can-"
He then gestured to a smaller white building beside the warehouse, the words "Museum" written in clear black and white font.
"Oh. Uh, sorry."
Shaking his head dismissively, the guard then walked away, leaving Claire alone.
Letting out a sigh, Claire looked over to her destination. "Well, at least I found it."
The interior of the museum was a startling contrast to the antiquated interiors of the Sabrewulf mansion. before pausing into the museum.
From its reflective black floors marked with two yellow and black caution strips to the various dioramas and machinery on display, it all seemed far more futuristic than anything in the mansion itself, making the transition and disconnect all the more jarring.
Over the entrance, at the left-hand side, was a valve that rested ten feet of the ground. All around her, concealed by thick plexiglass display cases were a series various of old generators, prototype androids and other long defunct models and vehicles that made up Ultratech's history in the robotics industry. Cameras whirred noisily while a red spotlight periodically scanned along the floor, leaving a long line of red. Staring up at it, Claire shivered underneath the red glow as it scanned her form, feeling uncomfortable by its dispassionate empty red eye as it remained focused on her for a while. For a brief moment, Claire almost thought that it would fire a laser at her or something and disintegrate her instantly. Finally, after a period of time had passed, the spotlight moved away from her, allowing Claire to let out a breath in relief. Taking a step forward, she glanced around at the various displays, reading some of the labels and descriptions for each exhibit. She kept wandering forward, her attention shifting from exhibit to exhibit. Raising her head, Claire's eyes widened with glee as she gave sharp gasp.
"Oh my God!" she gushed excitedly.
At the very end of the room, mounted on display was an old Goliath mech, a towering white and black figure with glowing red eyes and a pair of massive cannons for hands.
"Look at you!" she gasped.
"Really is something, huh?" An unfamiliar voice said behind her.
Startled, Claire whipped around. A man was leaning against an exhibit with a cocky smile on his face, his bare muscular arms crossed. Dressed in a blue tank top with a pair of jeans, the man was in his mid-twenties, about twenty-three or twenty-four, approximately the same age as her brother, though in her opinion handsomer, his face cleanshaven. His hair was a thick brown slicked back mullet, his hair framing his angular rugged features, his dark, deep-set eyes watching her with a gleam of amusement.
"You alright?" he asked.
"Y-yeah," Claire nodded. "Sorry, you scared me."
"Sorry about that, miss." He nodded back, glancing back to the machine she was looking at. "Yep, they sure don't make them like they used to. It's been ages since I've seen one of these boys in the Corps."
Claire gave him a look of surprise. "You're a Marine?"
He shrugged. "Was." He looked back to her and smiled, causing her heart to flutter as he held out his hand. "I'm Billy. Billy Coen."
Claire smiled back and shook the offered limb, "Claire Redfield." She glanced down to his left arm, noticing the black stylized tattoo. "Nice tattoo you have there!"
"Thanks," he grinned.
"What does it say?"
"'Mother Love.'"
"Queens fan, I take it?"
He winked. "Hell yeah! You as well? I couldn't help noticing your vest - 'Made in Heaven'."
"Ahh, so you were checking me out, huh?"
Billy gave a half shrug. "Guilty as charged. Besides, pretty girl like you, who wouldn't?"
Claire blushed at the compliment, trying her best to hide it.
He then tilted his head at her curiously. "So are you a Queens fan as well?"
Claire shrugged.
"You got me." She then folded her arms. "So, what brings you to the tournament? Are you here with anyone?"
Billy raised a brow. "Why?" A lopsided, teasing smirk formed on one side of his face. "You interested?"
Claire's cheeks burned underneath his stare.
"Uh, uh, no! I mean..." She sputtered.
The Marine laughed, shaking his head good humoredly.
"I'm just messing with ya. I'm actually here with a buddy of mine, an Army brat named Piers. He, uh, kind of had this crazy notion that we could team up and earn the cash prize. Like the the saying goes - 'one for the money, two for the show.'"
She looked at him curiously. "And which one are you?"
Billy shrugged. "Well, I was here for the money," he began, then looked her up and down appraisingly, "but seeing you..." He gave a wolfish smile, "I think I might have to reconsider."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Is this how you talk to all the girls you come across?" she asked.
"Just the ones that catch my interest, Red," he replied, his eyes gleaming. Billy then gave her a curious look. "What about yourself?"
Claire shook her head. "No, it's just me."
"Hm. And what brings you to KI?"
The girl tucked a bang behind her ear. "Oh, you know. Bills."
He quirked a brow. "That bad, huh?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Hm." He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, they can be a pain in the ass to deal with."
The girl scoffed. "Tell me about it." She looked away, then paused at the sight of a distinctive blue humanoid android in a glass display. "Isn't that an old ECO35-2?"
Billy looked over to where she stared, then nodded. "Yep. I remember those. Before they went defunct, Electrocorp had quite the promising start back in the 90s. I remember the advertisements for them. So much promise." He shook his head regretfully. "What a waste." Billy then stroked his chin thoughtfully, "I'm surprised Ultratech even has one of these things around here to begin with."
"You shouldn't be," A voice interrupted, startling the pair. Claire watched in surprise as the Baron was wheeled toward them by Dieter. "After all, I did buy out Electrocorp. There were flaws with their designs, no doubt about that, but I did see potential in their work."
Claire smiled. "Baron! I had no idea you were here! I hope we haven't been bothering you!"
The cloaked man waved dismissively. "Nein, nein, I was just dealing with certain matters." His black sunglasses looked up at her, casting their reflection. "So how are you two finding everything? Any issues at all with your quarters?"
Claire shook her head.
"No, not at all! Thank you so much for having us here, Baron," she nodded graciously.
"Oh, don't mention it."
Billy looked away, squirming uncomfortably while Claire babbled on.
"The museum you have here is incredible!" she gushed.
"Danke."
"Do you have the old Electrocorp Sentry Androids as well?"
The aristocrat exhaled through his thick scarf.
"Regretfully no," he replied. "I'm afraid those have been lost."
"Aww! That's a shame."
Billy cleared his throat. "I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Claire."
"Take care, Billy!" she waved.
Billy waved back, then nodded stiffly at the wheelchair-bound figure. "Baron."
Sabrewulf nodded back. "Mr. Coen. Good luck with the tournament."
Claire watched as Billy walked away, scratching her head.
"I wonder what's up with him," she commented.
Dieter shrugged. "I'm guessing he didn't appreciate us interfering."
"Hm. My apologies," Sabrewulf nodded. "I didn't mean to interrupt the two of you."
"No, it's fine, Baron. Honestly, we were just talking."
"Hm." The hooded head glanced up at her, his scarf hiding his features. "Tell me, Ms. Redfield, have you tried out the equipment at the gym?"
She shook her head. "I haven't, to be honest. I probably should, though." Taking out her map, Claire held it open for inspection. "Do either of you know-"
"Just head out through the entrance back there, then take a right all the way to the main castle," Sabrewulf interrupted.
Claire blinked. "Oh." She smiled. "Okay. Thank you, Baron!"
"Anytime!" Sabrewulf waved as she headed back out the door.
T.J. nodded to himself in satisfaction, smirking as he admiringly studied the castle's decorations and architecture, wandering from room to room.
Somewhere, God must have been watching over him; one minute he was down in the dumps, a worthless bum. When he got the phone call, however, that changed everything!
An all-expense paid trip to Colorado, where he was to live like a king in this place, and all he had to do was knock some asshole flat on his ass and occasionally fight some dork in a rubber suit?
Fuck yeah!
It was MILES better than having to work at McDonald's under the management of some pimply-faced asshole named Dwayne, and it was definitely better than doing porn.
He looked around, studying the other fighters.
'I can take him,' he thought as he glanced at each one confidently. "I can take him. I can take him. I can stomp him. I can beat that guy. I can beat that guy, I can beat-"
He cut himself off the moment he laid eyes on her.
Ho. Ly. Shitballs!
The woman was HOT! In fact, the green jacket she wore had that exact word written on her side in capital letters and bright neon yellow.
Looking her up and down, T.J. stared admiringly at her figure.
God DAMN, she was his dream woman! Hour glass figure, huge tits and a PERFECT ass! And Asian to boot!
The woman was looking around in a bored and aloof manner, taking everything in.
Licking lips, T.J. sucked in his gut and threw his shoulders back, clenching his buttocks as he stood up as straight as he could, putting on his most confident smile as he approached.
"Hey, baby!" he said in a deep, silky smooth and seductive baritone, stopping just behind her. "Are your parents retarded?"
Whipping around violently, the woman gave him the evil eye, causing T.J. to tense up in surprise, the atmosphere dropping down to zero.
"Excuse me?" she said in a dangerously low, threatening voice.
Hearing her voice, T.J. felt a cold chill run down his back as the room temperature plummeted.
He swallowed nervously. "Uh, I said are your parents retarded, 'cause you're something special."
The woman stared at him, blinking nonplussed at what he said, then rolled her eyes dismissively.
T.J. flexed his pecks, standing akimbo style. "Know who I am?"
"Unfortunately," the woman answered in a drawl.
"And you are?"
She smiled. "Not interested."
As she started to turn away, T.J. followed after her. "Hey, I got you to smile!" He then reached for her shoulder, "Why don't we-"
The moment T.J. put his hand on her, she slowly turned and gave him the most terrifying look he had ever seen on a woman's face. Her eyes were blazing balls of fire, and for a moment it looked like they flashed with bright yellow. Startled, he drew his hand away.
"Uhh, sorry."
The woman stared long and hard at him, the light gone from her eyes along with her anger. And then she turned away, storming angrily off.
T.J. remained rooted to the spot, transfixed by what he just saw.
Her eyes had been glowing!
"What the fuck was that?" he wondered.
"Hey!" A familiar voice called, stirring the boxer from his thoughts.
Turning to the source, T.J. smiled at the sight of the kid from earlier, Claire, if he remembered her name correctly.
"Hey!" he greeted back as she approached. "How's it going?"
"I'm good, thanks!" Claire smiled cheerfully. "Did you manage to find your room?"
He nodded. "Yeah. It's a helluva lot better than what I have back in Chicago, that's for sure."
"That's good to hear." Claire tilted her head curiously. "You okay, big guy? You kind of look a bit shaken up."
T.J. looked back to where he saw the woman left, then back to Claire. "Uh, yeah. I was just looking, that's all."
Claire gave a knowing and mischievous smile.
"Yeah, I saw you chatting with that woman. I take it things didn't go too well."
"Weeeellll...yeah." he admitted flatly. T.J. glanced back down the hall where the woman had gone. "She's one scary lady."
The girl scoffed. "Tell me about it. She's so...weird."
T.J. kept thinking back to the woman's eyes. How they radiated with such menace and a caged ferocity, unlike anything he had ever seen. Part of him actually felt a little...afraid. Not that he would ever admit to it, of course - after all, T.J. Combo ain't afraid of shit. And yet that glow...
He closed his eyes and let out a dismissive laugh.
"Just a trick of the light," he murmured to himself.
"What is?" Claire asked curiously.
He waved at her. "It's nothing."
"What?"
"No, no. It's nothing, honest. It's stupid. I kind of thought her eyes were glowing, but it's just a trick of the light," he laughed.
Claire hesitated. "They were...glowing?"
T.J. waved. "Nah. It's nothing. It's crap." He then looked at her seriously. "So, was there something you need?"
The girl smiled sheepishly. "Yeahhh, I'm trying to find the gym, but...um..." She sighed. "I'm lost."
"I know where it is. Just follow me, kid - I'm heading there anyways."
"Thank you for helping me out."
He shrugged. "Hey, it's no trouble." Looking back to Claire as she walked beside him, he gave her a quick once over, giving her rear an appraising look.
'Nice ass.' Came the thought.
He opened his mouth to deliver a cheesy pick-up line, but then thought better of it.
He had no idea how old she was - better to play it safe and not go there.
Looking ahead, T.J. continued on in silence.
Jago sat cross-legged on the floor of the balcony outside on the second floor, his eyes locked in intense concentration as he throat sang.
Trees fluttered in the breeze, causing leaves to ruffle as he remained still, his mind a troubled whirlwind of thoughts.
"Sounds like you're getting a bad cold," a female voice called out nearby.
Stopping what he was doing, Jago opened his eyes to meet the woman's as she loomed a few feet away.
"No, just meditating," he replied, eying her greet attire. "Is there something I can help you with?"
The woman chuckled, sauntering lazily over like a tigress. Although her demeanor was relaxed, part of Jago remained alert. He wasn't alarmed or afraid; if anything, he was a little intrigued by the woman. She had masked her step so cautiously, so carefully, so quietly that Jago himself was surprised that he hadn't picked up on it sooner. The woman moved with disciplined and graceful movements, every step, movement and gesture precise and calculated.
"Just a little curious," she purred as she regarded him, her eyes twinkling with mischief and humor. "It is strange to see a Tibetan monk participating in a martial arts tournament of all things. If I'm not mistaken, the only martial arts Tibetan monks know how to perform, if any, is the verbal variety."
Jago remained quiet, causing her to tilt her head at him inquisitively.
"Hm, quiet one, aren't you?" The woman smirked, eying him.
He refused to dignify her with an answer.
Not paying him any mind, she nodded thoughtfully.
"From what I know about Tibetan monks," the woman began, "it is more typical to see them debating on the opinions of philosophical concepts in order to defeat any misconceptions rather than promote violence." The woman clicked her tongue, "They are supposed to advocate peace and nonviolence, aren't they?"
"They are." He nodded, carefully selecting his words slowly. "The principle of nonviolence is central to Buddhism, to my Order especially."
She chuckled darkly.
"Ah yes, your 'Order'," The woman replied with a seeming knowingness as she looked out to the vast array of trees, lazily tracing her gloved fingers along the rail. "It is strange that a denomination dedicated to the vows of nonviolence would send one of their own all the way over here in order to participate in an event where violence thrives." Shaking her head in disbelief, the woman stared out to the dark mountains ahead. "It sounds to me like you were chosen as the sacrificial lamb."
Jago blinked in surprise, startled by her comment. Before he could question her, the woman's fingers stopped on the railing.
"Of course," she said slowly, turning around to face him, "you're not exactly the regular type of Tibetan monk, now...are you?"
Jago remained seated, his eyes betraying nothing while her brown eyes scrutinized him as he remained silent, guardedly watching her. Taking his silence as a cue, the woman started to circle slowly around him.
"Is it for money?" She pretended to wait, then shook her head. "No..." She continued circling around him. "Fame? Glory?" She then stopped behind him.
"Or," the woman said slowly as she leaned into his ear, "is it for the thrill?" She then lowered her voice into a hushed, seductive whisper, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
Repressing the urge to shiver, Jago leapt up to his feet and whipped around to face her, getting into a stance, his eyes ablaze with fury.
"What is your game?!" he demanded, his heart racing, his hands trembling.
The woman chuckled. "My my my! Such anger! I can tell from the way you move that you know how to fight."
Jago clenched his hands into fists.
"Is that why you are here?" he glared.
She shook her head. "No. Just checking out the competition." The woman then folded her arms together. "I have to admit to feeling a little...bemused by your presence."
"What business is it of yours of my affairs?"
The woman merely shrugged. "None, really. Just merely passing the time."
Jago suddenly realized what was happening; she was trying to get a rise out of him. Apparently she was looking for ways to amuse herself and found an unwitting toy to mess around with.
Closing his eyes, Jago calmed himself, his eyelids reopening slowly as the monk continued in a gentler tone, "You say my presence is misplaced due to the violence here." He raised a brow. "Is it, though?" He looked out to the mansion grounds and the forests beyond. "Perhaps it is precisely because this is where violence thrives that I have been sent here."
The woman folded her arms together, looking at him with a mixture of wry amusement and intrigue.
"Is that why you're here? To preach your dogma?"
"To perform an exorcism."
She stared at him for a long time, then gave a slight laugh. "Ha. You're funny."
"Alleviating bad karma from the soul is hardly a laughing matter." He replied calmly. "The more you accrue, the more harm it will bring to you and those you care about."
The woman grinned. "Good thing I don't have any of the latter to worry about, then."
The monk blinked with surprise. "You have no one? No friends? No family?"
She shrugged, saying nothing.
He nodded sympathetically.
"You have my condolences," Jago said softly.
The woman in green gave a dismissive wave. "I don't need your sympathy."
Jago stared into her eyes, their brown eyes meeting. For two minutes, he studied her, then gave a thoughtful nod.
"...I can see through the charade," he said seriously.
She narrowed her eyes.
"What do you mean?" The woman asked suspiciously, putting her hands on her hips.
"You are well-versed with violence. With pain."
She scoffed. "So? Everyone has problems."
"Indeed. Life is suffering, and some know pain and violence more so than others. You, however, seem to have been touched more so than most, although you mask it well."
The woman's smirk returned as she crossed her arms, barking out a harsh, cruel laugh.
"That's funny coming from a man wearing a mask," she sneered. "Are you sure you aren't talking about yourself?"
Jago said nothing for a long time, his soft eyes giving her a pitying look.
"...I don't know what your experiences were, nor do I know what you went through...but...if you wish, I can offer you spiritual consultation and guidance, if not support, or at the very least recommend someone."
The woman was still for a long time, looking at him with a startled expression. Then, she gave a harsh, cruel laugh, shaking her head. "I think I'll pass. I'm not some delicate little blossom. Besides, I'm an atheist and a lost cause."
"You aren't," he said certainly. "Everyone is deserving of compassion and capable of change, including you. That said, however, it is up to you to decide as to whether or not you wish to break the cycle and alleviate the burden from your soul."
The woman tilted her head. "'My soul'?" She repeated. "Are you sure you aren't talking about yours?"
Jago stared long and hard at her, then nodded, causing her smile to drop. "There is some truth in that. After all, we are all bound to the Wheel of Life and karma. The difference between us, though, is that I am willing to seek out nirvana."
The woman clicked her tongue. "So, you wish to attain enlightenment and peace for all." She drawled. "How boring." She then shook her head. ""Spare me your pity, monk. I don't need it. I can take care of myself. I'm a big girl."
"You sound certain of yourself."
She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm adaptable. It helps being a survivor. I've been on my own ever since I was a child wandering the streets, and look at how well I turned out. Not bad all things considering."
The monk looked at her curiously. "What brings you to this place?"
The woman looked at her nails, her porcelain face unreadable. Looking up, she met his stare with hers, then looked up to the sky, letting out a tired sigh.
"Life decisions." She said simply.
Jago's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
The woman gave a teasing smile. "Wouldn't you like to know." She then brushed back her black hair. "Well, this chat has been fun and all, but I've got to get going. Time is money, after all."
The monk pressed his hands together at chest level and bowed. "I wish you good health and happiness, Miss." He watched as she turned around and walked away. "If you ever are in need of spiritual guidance," he said, causing the woman to pause and look over her shoulder, "...if there is a matter that you wish to discuss, if you are in need of help or just someone to talk to, you...are always welcome to talk with me any time."
The woman hesitated, then gave a slight smile and nod. Looking ahead, she continued forward, leaving the monk by himself on the balcony.
A shadow passed over Jago, causing him to look up into the sky as a crow flapped its black wings, cawing out a cackling laugh that left him feeling troubled.
Claire stared in awe at her surroundings.
All around the gym were various fighters as they practiced their moves, some of them lifting weights while one or two were bench-pressing.
"Well well well! Look what the cat dragged in!" A familiar voice greeted, drawing their attention over to the benches.
Claire smiled as she approached. "Billy! Hey."
"Hey yourself, doll-face," Billy smiled back. "How are you?"
"I'm good! And it's Claire."
He shrugged. "Alright."
She looked around at their surroundings and nodded appreciatively. "This is a nice place!"
"It is, right?" he nodded in agreement, then gestured to a young man beside him. Claire recognized him instantly as the one who got into T.J.'s face earlier. "This is my Army buddy Piers."
The man held out his hand, smiling kindly. "Piers Nivans."
Claire smiled back, shaking his hand. "Claire Redfield."
Hearing a throat being cleared, the trio looked to Claire's left, noticing T.J. as he shifted uncomfortably.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. This is-"
"We know who he is." Piers glared.
Billy put a hand on his buddy's shoulder. "Save it for the ring, man. Not now."
Piers looked at Billy's hand, then gave a conceding nod to his friend. "I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Claire. Good luck with the tournament."
"It was nice meeting you as well, Piers."
As the two military men departed, she looked back to T.J. "I'm sorry about that."
He scoffed, waving dismissively. "Nah, don't worry." The boxer stretched his arms, arching his back as he produced a series of audibly loud cracks and pops. "Uhhh. Well, it's been great seeing you, kid." T.J. said as he departed from her. "Good luck with your training!"
Claire smiled. "You too, T.J."
She watched as he approached the nearest punching bag, then started to flex his biceps, his muscles rippling.
"T.J. Combo."
Once he finished flexing, T.J. started to dribble the boxing bag with his fist. The bag flopped wildly around as the boxer repeatedly jabbed at it, building up speed and momentum before finally getting into rhythm as he began his practice. Releasing sharp breaths as he twisted and turned on his heels on the gym floor, he danced a fighter's dance with his imaginary opponent as he struck at the bag his various strikes.
Looking away, Claire scanned indecisively along the gym.
As Claire watched the various fighters, she suddenly realized just how out of her depth she was.
What was she even doing here?
She wasn't a martial artist. She wasn't a soldier. She wasn't even a cop, despite being a sister to one.
Claire watched as one guy twisted and spun around on his back and sides like a top, his legs a whirlwind of nonstop motion.
'...I hope I don't fight that guy,' she thought to herself.
There was no way in hell she would even stand a chance against him. She would be soooooo screwed.
Turning away, Claire paused at the sight of one particular person on a treadmill.
Dressed in a black tank top with matching shorts was a muscled giant of a man of 6'4 and 295 pounds, a Native American with copper red skin and long, raven black hair. His face was handsome and squarish, with raised cheekbones, a strong aquiline nose with deep set eyes and a wide mouth, but it was the intense, dark stormy expression that he wore that made her pause.
He looked grimly determined, yet...sad.
And familiar.
Sensing that he was being watched, the man turned his eyes over to her in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
"Do you need help with something?" he asked.
Claire cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I'm, uh, just trying to figure out where to start." She looked around, paused momentarily, then pointed to a treadmill beside him. "Is anyone using that?"
"Not as far as I know."
"Do you mind if I use it?"
"Go ahead."
As Claire got on, she held out her hand, "I'm Claire."
The man held out his and shook hers. "Hinmatoom."
Claire blinked. "'Hinmatoom'?" she repeated.
He sighed.
"It means 'Thunder'," the man explained.
She smiled.
"'Thunder'? Your name is 'Thunder'?!" she said enthusiastically.
"Yes."
Her smile widened. "That is the coolest name ever!"
And just like that, his stormy expression disappeared as he let out a rumbling, deep-chested laugh.
"I'm glad you think so," he said in wry amusement. "My grandfather was a chief himself. Had it been a hereditary title, though, today I would have been called 'Chief Thunder'."
"NO! Shut up. Are you messing with me?"
He shrugged. "It's the truth."
"That sounds even cooler!" Claire said excitedly. She looked at him. "Are you a chief?"
Thunder shook his head. "No. I'm a college professor at the University of Idaho. My area of specialty is Native Studies, more specifically traditional medicine."
"That is really interesting!" she gushed. "I'm actually part Native American myself."
"Hm." The man grunted, looking unimpressed, if not unconvinced. "What tribe?"
"Mohawk on my mother's side. At least... I think so?" Claire shrugged. "I'm not too sure, to be honest." She then looked back at him curiously. "What tribe are you from, out of curiosity?"
"Nimíipuu. The more common term is Nez Perce, although I do have some ancestry with the Sammamish People."
"That's really cool!" Claire stared at him, her eyes taking his facial features in.
Unnerved, Thunder raised a brow. "What?"
"Sorry, but...by any chance...um...are you...related to Eagle?"
His brow rose higher. "Why? Because I'm Native American?"
"No," she shook her head. "It's just I see some resemblance."
He blinked in surprise at the admission, then sighed. "He's my brother."
Claire's eyes widened in shock.
"Your brother?" she repeated.
He nodded.
"How is he, out of curiosity?"
The big man slowed himself down on the treadmill, his pace decreasing before finally halting to a stop.
"What?" Claire asked in confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"
Thunder shook his head slowly. "No, no, you did nothing wrong." Grabbing a white towel that hung from the treadmill's handle, he got off and wiped off his sweat-slicked forehead, "I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Claire."
"You too," Claire waved. "I'm sorry if I have upset you."
He gave a dismissive wave. "You haven't." As he turned to leave, he paused. "A word of advice to you, Claire? Run."
The girl blinked, taken aback by his words. "...I'm sorry?"
"You heard me," he nodded. "There is something in the air here. A wrongness..." Thunder quietly stood still with his back toward her, staring straight ahead, as if focused on something ahead of him. Turning slowly to look over his shoulder, his eyes met hers, startling Claire. His face was hard and cold, his dark, almost chocolate brown eyes turning obsidian in the light. His face flashed with several different emotions, all of which Claire herself had trouble identifying.
Exhaling through his nostrils, the giant's eyes softened at the sight of her. "Whatever your reasons for coming here, leave this place. Leave while you still can, while you still have time."
Before she could even demand an explanation for what he meant, Thunder looked away and exited the gym, heading to the changerooms.
Claire's brow scrunched up in confusion, put off by his bizarre behavior.
"You okay, Claire?"
Glancing aside, she smiled at the sight of T.J. "Uh yeah, I'm okay, thanks."
The boxer glanced to the changerooms. "What was all that about? Did you piss him off or something?"
She shrugged. "Honestly, I have no idea. One moment we were talking, the next he just..."
She trailed off, staring blankly at the changerooms.
"What did he say?" T.J. asked.
Claire opened her mouth, then closed, frowning. "He...told me to run."
T.J. looked at her in surprise. "He told you to what?"
"He told me to run. To leave this place before it was too late."
Claire watched as the boxer shifted his jaw angrily. "He threatened you."
She raised up her hands placatingly. "No, no! He wasn't! At least...I think he wasn't."
T.J. frowned. "What do you mean 'you think' he hasn't? Did he or didn't he?"
The girl shook her head. "I...it's hard to explain."
T.J. cracked his knuckles. "How about I go and ask?"
Claire's eyes widened with worry as she waved her hands in alarm. "NO, no! Please, it's nothing! I'm fine!"
He watched her. "Are you sure?"
"I am." Claire looked over to the change room. "You don't have to worry, big guy. I can take care of myself. My brother is S.T.A.R.S., after all, and I learned a lot from him. Still, thank you for your concern, though."
The boxer regarded her for a moment, then exhaled. "Okay. If he gives you any trouble, though, let me know right away, alright?" She opened her mouth to protest. "If not me, then security, okay? Big guy like that isn't going to be easy to take down, plus it helps having extra muscle by your side."
Claire folded her arms. "You're just trying to get a good look at my ass, aren't you?"
He frowned. "No I- okay yes I'm a pervert!" The admission caused Claire to burst out laughing. "What can I say, I'm a man!" T.J. huffed in mock indignation as Claire laughed, then shook his head with an amused gleam in his eyes. "No, I'm just messin' with ya, kid. Yer too young for the Main Man, plus I prefer my women to be more..." He then illustrated with his hands, putting a lot of emphasis on the top and bottom, causing Claire to roll her eyes.
"Classy." she drawled.
He shrugged. "Meh, what can I say? I am what I am." His eyes softened. "Still... if he or anyone gives ya grief, let me or security know, alright? I'll sort 'em out."
The girl gave a look of surprise, then nodded.
"Thank you, T.J."
He winked, then turned away. Straightening himself, he stood akimbo style. "T.J. Combo."
And with that, he left her alone, the girl shaking her head amusedly.
Men.
Looking back to the changeroom, Claire's blue eyes questioningly stared.
"What was that all about?" she murmured softly.
Several hours later, Claire found herself lying on the bed in her room, staring up at the ceiling as moonlight shined through a closed window, lighting her countenance.
'What was that look?' she wondered, thinking back to Thunder and his final words before departure.
Ever since her encounter with Thunder, Claire couldn't help replaying his reactions in her mind over and over again. Something about it bothered her.
His voice echoed loudly in her ears over and over again like a mantra, his haunting words repeating rhythmically.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
There is something in the air here.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
A wrongness.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
Leave this place.
Claire gulped nervously as the ghostly voice reverberated in her mind, whispering the words to her like a ghost come to haunt her, hinting suggestively at...something.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
There is something in the air here.
A wrongness.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
Leave while you still can.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
A wrongness.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
Something in the air here.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
Claire felt her stomach clench nervously into knots, the ache in her belly growing with each chant as nausea set in, her knuckles turning white as she unconsciously gripped the covers beside her.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
A wrongness.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
Something in the air here.
Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.
A wrongness.
A wrongness.
Something in the air here.
A wrongness.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
A wrongness.
Leave while you still have time.
Run.
Her eyes widening, Claire suddenly shot up from the bed with a sharp gasp, her face damp with sweat as she clamped hold of her mouth, trying to refrain from vomiting.
Oh my God!
Thunder wasn't threatening her - he was trying to warn her!
She finally now understood what it was about Thunder's reactions that bothered her so much - it wasn't anger that she saw, not at all!
'That's what it was!' she mentally gasped.
Fear. Pure, overwhelming fear.
Something frightened him. Badly.
Furrowing her brow, Claire leaned forward and stroked her chin, puzzled by his reaction.
What could have possibly scared someone as big and strong as Thunder to produce such an unusually intense reaction?
Closing her eyes, Claire shook her head, scoffing in disbelief.
What was with her? For all she knew, the guy was just trying to spook her. Maybe Thunder was just plain crazy.
Feeling a bit better, Claire let out a sigh of relief.
Turning her attention to the window, Claire then stared out at the mansion grounds as the moonlight painted everything in a whitish hue.
Looking to the taped-off mansion far away, she felt a chill come over her as she took in its appearance amidst the other structures, watching as the moonlight washed out all the color from its frame and surroundings, rendering the building in a manner that made it look positively ghoulish.
Feelings of disgust and repulsion filled Claire's heart the more she looked at the building. From the way it appeared in the moonlight, it almost looked as if it were a bleached, decomposing skeleton amid a series of gravestones.
Shivering, Claire pulled back the curtains and turned away, crawling back to bed.
As she nestled herself beneath the covers, Claire remained awake, drifting asleep to the sound of the howling wind outside.
Author's Note: And that ends this chapter. So, in one of the original screenplay drafts for the first RE movie by George Romero, Chris was portrayed as being Native American, and from what I've seen of RE2make, Capcom seems to be hinting at that with Claire's necklace, although it's possible it was meant to be a homage. So, I thought that I would reference that. Sharp-eyed readers may spot other references to other games as well as a reference to "Boston Legal". Let's see if you can spot them all. ;)
Hope you liked this, everyone! Take care, and stay safe.